


After Hours

by MusicWritesMyLife



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Caitlin and Barry totally know she has the hots for Oliver, F/M, Family Fluff, Felicity is a teacher, Oliver has a kid, Romance, and lots of crafts, and they read Robin Hood together, cop!Oliver, kid shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 17:02:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3818110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicWritesMyLife/pseuds/MusicWritesMyLife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are always parents who are late to pick up there kids on the first day of school, but Felicity has never had anyone show up this late. When Oliver Queen sweeps into her classroom, however, she's more than happy to excuse his tardiness. And he is more than willing to make it up to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Hours

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off a prompt on Tumblr for a single parent/teacher Olicity AU. Enjoy!

The first day of school is always the worst. None of the children are used to the full day (which is exactly why Felicity, as a first grade teacher, has always been opposed to half-day kindergarten), and Felicity is trying her best to keep thirty six year-olds under control while learning their names.

By the end of the day, everyone is exhausted, but most of the kids are eager to come back the next day, which Felicity considers a success. Several years of teaching first grade have taught her that school is not everyone’s cup of tea—particularly if you’re a six year-old boy—and she’s gotten very good at coming up with ways to make class interesting for everyone. Some of her colleagues disapprove of her “unorthodox” style of teaching, but it’s proven very successful in the classroom.

As usual, there are a few parents who are late picking up their kids. Felicity waves away their apologies, feeding them the usual lines about understanding the craziness of back to school and reminding them to try and be more punctual next time. After ten minutes, all the children have been picked up, with the exception of one.

Felix Queen is a puzzle Felicity hasn't been able to crack. Usually, she can tell from looking at a child what kind of learning strategy she needs to use to make school an enjoyable experience, but Felix is an enigma. He doesn't like to play with the other kids, but has no problem sharing toys. The state of his clothes—he showed up in a shirt and tie—suggests his parents are wealthy (probably the type who chose public school over private school to give their child a “diverse” experience), but he shows no signs of entitlement Felicity usually sees. He refused to participate in class, even during attendance, but his behaviour wasn't rude; he simply said nothing.

Even now, after all his classmates have left, he shows no signs of concern, sitting quietly at his desk and flipping through the notebooks Felicity handed out that afternoon for math.

Maybe he’s just shy. Only, he doesn't seem afraid of interacting with the other kids, rather he appears uninterested. But not in a rude way.

“Hey, Felix,” Felicity says gently, approaching his desk. “Is someone coming to pick you up?”

Felix nods, attention fixed on the bank pages of his notebook.

“I’m sure they’re running a little behind, that’s all. Why don’t we give them a call?”

Another nod.

 

Calling proves to be futile; the phone goes straight to voicemail. Felicity doesn't leave a message, their probably driving. Felix keeps his eyes downcast the whole time.

“Do you want to look at some books while you wait?” Felicity asks, flashing her brightest smile in hopes of eliciting some kind of reaction from the little boy. He seemed very interested in the bookshelves this morning. “There are lots to look at in the shelves.”

Felix shrugs one shoulder, now staring at his bag. Felicity notices the corner of what looks like a large book sticking out of the side. “What have you got in your bag there?” she asks gently, bending down beside him.

“A book,” he says quietly.

Felicity smiles, relieved to be able to get some words out of him. “Do you mind showing me? I love books.”

Felix doesn't say anything, but to Felicity’s relief he opens his bag and pulls out the book. It’s a well-worn volume of fairy tales, complete with what looks like ketchup stains on the front cover.

“The Adventures of Robin Hood,” she reads, tracing the letters with her finger. “Have you read the whole thing?”

Felix shakes his head. “My dad and I read it together,” he says.

“Well, why don’t we read some while we wait?”

The book seems to be the key. While he sits quietly for the first page or so, he quickly becomes engaged, perching on Felicity’s lap to look at the pictures better. She finds he’s very bright, following along with his finger—which is more than she can say of most first graders.

 

She doesn't realise how much time has passed until the classroom door swings open and a young man breezes in, coat flapping open over a tailored suit. “Sorry I’m late,” he says breathlessly. His eyes are the most piercing blue Felicity has ever seen and she tires not to stare. (At them or his drool-worthy jaw-line. Or the hint of abs she can see under his shirt.)

“Daddy!” Felix yells, launching himself from Felicity’s lap and into his father’s arms. The sheer joy on his face makes her forget about the wait.

Mr Queen grins, sweeping his son up in the air before setting him down again. “Hey buddy, how’s it going!”

Felix grins. “Awesome. Miss Felicity and I were reading Robin Hood while we waited of you.”

“Really? That’s great! Listen buddy, why don’t you go grab your coat and we can go get some dinner.” Turning to Felicity, he adds. “I’m sorry about the time. I was chasing a lead and I lost track of time.”

“It’s fine. Totally fine,” Felicity stammers, wishing she didn't blush so much in the presence of attractive men. “Felix and I had a great time.”

Mr Queen glances at Felix, who is busy changing his shoes. “It’s just the two of us, and juggling schedules can be a bit of a challenge. I’ll try and get someone to come pick him up tomorrow.”

Well. That explains a lot of things. “It’s no problem. Really. I usually stay after school to plan lessons and organise the class for the next day anyways, so Felix is more than welcome to wait here.”

She’s going to regret giving up her evenings later, but the look on his face, like she’s his personal saviour, more than makes up for it. “Really? You’re sure it wouldn't be a problem?”

Felicity shakes her head. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Nope. No problem. No problem at all, Mr Queen.”

He grins. “Thanks. And please, call me Oliver.”

“Felicity. But you already knew that because my name is on the door.” Sometimes she wishes she could mute herself. This is one of those times.

Oliver laughs, glancing at the colourful name card on the door. “For all I know, you could prefer Miss Felicity,” he says. Felicity can’t figure out if his tone is flirtatious or not, (nor is she sure whether or not she wants it to be) but the way he says her name makes her toes curl. She clamps her lip to keep from telling him he can call her whatever she wants.

She is so screwed.

* * *

They quickly fall into a routine that lasts for the first couple of months. Felix helps Felicity clean the classroom and prepare for the next day’s activities, and they always finish their time together by reading some more of his book. Oliver shows up at five, and usually hangs around to chat for a few minutes as Felix gets ready to go. Felicity learns that he chose being a cop over joining the family business, and that Felix mother, Sara, died in a car accident the night her son was born. He doesn't talk much to his family, with the exception of his younger sister, Thea, with whom he seems to be quite close.

For the first two months, Felicity tries to deny she feels anything for Oliver beyond friendship. She loves spending time with his son and is interested in learning more about his life—it’s so much more interesting than hers—but that’s it. (She doesn't notice the sexy five-o’clock-shadow on his jaw, or the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, or the way his laugh sends shivers up her spine. Not at all.)

Barry and Caitlin both tell her on several occasions that she’s in denial about her feelings and that there’s no harm in asking Oliver out for coffee or something. (As Caitlin points out over coffee in the teacher’s lounge, she already loves Felix, which is an added bonus). Felicity ignores them both (After all, Barry’s been pining after Iris, who teaches English, for as long as Felicity has known him and has yet to do anything about it.), preferring to live in her happy bubble of friendship and platonic conversation babbling over the desks in her classroom.

By the time December rolls around and she realises that denial is not going to make anything go away, she’s in so deep that there really isn't anything she can do about it. She lives for the beginning and end of each school day, when Oliver breezes into her classroom with an easy smile and his usual, “Hey, Felicity.” It’s pathetic the way her heart flutters whenever he walks into the room and if she had any sort of dignity she’d be embarrassed, but she can’t bring herself to care. She’s in love, and wishing it away for to save face isn’t going to change anything.

Oliver’s not the only one she’s fallen for: it seems Felix has inherited his father’s talent for worming his way into Felicity’s heart and staying there permanently. Ever since that first afternoon when they say in the classroom reading Robin Hood together, she’s had a soft spot for him, which has only grown with time. She knows it’s terrible and unprofessional and she could probably lose her job (teachers are not supposed to feel parental towards their students ever), but getting too attached has always been a problem of hers. It’s what makes her good at her job, but it’s also what makes the job so damn hard. (Crying at the end of every school year is not what most normal teachers do.)

It only occurs to her how bad this has gotten when Felix is home one day with the flu and she feels disappointment like a punch in the gut at the thought of going a day without seeing either or them. (Which is ridiculous because children get sick all the time, and really her happiness should not hinge on whether or not her student’s father comes to pick him up after class.)

“It’s embarrassing,” she groans to Caitlin, as they cut out foam pieces for the Christmas decorations she’s planning on making with the class tomorrow. “I’m twenty-five years old and every time he walk in the door I’m babbling like some love-struck teenager.”

Caitlin just raises her eyebrows, deftly snipping pieces for a snowman.

“Shut up,” Felicity mutters because even though her best friend hasn't said anything out loud, those eyebrows speak volumes. “I’m not in love with him. We’re just friends.”

(She’s so in love with him.)

“Well, you know what I think,” is all Caitlin says, setting her perfectly trimmed snowmen aside. “Barry and I have been telling you since September that you should just ask him—”

 

“Felicity?”

Both women stare open-mouthed as the door swings open and Oliver steps into the classroom. He catches sight of Caitlin—who is completely speechless for the first time in her life—and pauses, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?”

“No, not at all,” Felicity says quickly, cheeks burning (because oh God what if he heard what Caitlin was saying). “Caitlin and I were just talking about the…Holiday Assembly. Just finishing, actually.” She glares pointedly at her friend, who’s open-mouthed stare has now morphed into blatant appreciation.

“Right,” Caitlin says, setting own her scissors and getting up out of the chair (which couldn't have been comfortable in the first place—it’s made for six year-olds). “I’ll see you tomorrow, Felicity. Bye, Oliver.”

(Felicity wishes the floor would open up and swallow her whole. Any time now would be great.)

Oliver frowns, turning to watch Caitlin retreat down the hallway. “Do I know her?”

“No.” Felicity shakes her head vehemently. “No way. I just—I have a little bit of an issue when it comes to the filter, you know, between my mouth and my brain—it doesn’t exactly work. So I might have mentioned you once. Or twice. In a perfectly platonic and appropriate manner.”

(Jesus. This is going from bad to worse.)

The corners of Oliver’s mouth twitch. “I’ve noticed.”

“I’m really sorry,” she continues, trying to salvage some tiny scrap of her nearly non-existent dignity. “You obviously didn't come here to listen to me make a fool of myself.”

“I like listening to you babble.”

Felicity blinks, heartbeat hammering against her ribs. Did he just—? Oliver is equally surprised (seems like she’s not the only one with a filter problem) because he laughs nervously and rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry, I didn't mean it to come out like that. What I meant is that I like talking to you.”

She swallows the questions that dance on the tip of her tongue. “Oh. Uh, Felix wasn't in school today.”

(Why, why, why doesn't she ever think before she says anything?)

Oliver laughs. “I know. I’m not here about Felix.”

“Oh.” Is he—?

“I realise I missed parent-teacher interviews, so I thought I would stop by. I shouldn't have assumed you’d be free.”

She is this close to telling him he can come any time he wants because regardless of what she’s doing, she’ll make time.

“Interviews were in October,” is what comes out instead.

He nods, grinning. “I realise that. But I figured better late than never, right?”

Felicity fiddles with the hem of her sweater, glancing at the stack of felt shapes waiting to be cut out. “Yeah. Sure. Uh, do you mind helping me cut out some stuff for tomorrow’s lesson while we talk? Otherwise I’ll be here all night.”

(She wonders if this is weird, but Oliver takes a seat in one of those ridiculously tiny chairs, grabs some Caitlin’s discarded scissors, and starts cutting.)

“So what did you want to talk about? Felix is doing really great—I mean he’s a little quiet in class, but he’s very bright and he’s certainly very talkative after school—”

She breaks off, noticing that Oliver is staring at her very intently. “What? Is something wrong?”

A small, secret smile curves on Oliver's lips. It's so sweet and genuine Felicity's heart melts into a little puddle at the bottom of her ribcage. "Nothing," he says, picking up another piece of foam. "How do you do this? I mean, I love my son, but I think thirty six year olds would make me crazy."

Felicity laughs. "You have no idea. But it's really rewarding. When you see how much they've progressed at the end of the year and they're excited to come in every morning because they love being in your class, that makes it all worth it." 

Oliver's staring at her again like she's some rare exotic creature. Something warm blossoms in the pit of her stomach and spreads through her ribcage. She swallows, staring at the foam snowman she had just decapitated. "I can see why they love your class." 

Felicity's head snaps up so quickly she can feel the muscles in her neck pop. It might be her imagination, but Oliver is much closer than he was before. She can see the creases around his eyes—probably from smiling. 

"You're an excellent teacher," he says quietly, leaning across the table. A stack of foam cutouts falls off the table but Felicity doesn't even notice. "You're kind, patient, you care about your students..."

She'll never know what else he might have had to say about her teaching style because she closes the distance between them, unable to stand it anymore.

His lips are soft beneath hers, and at first neither of them move, both equally surprised this is actually happening (Felicity doesn't have control over her actions most of the time). For a fraction of a second she thinks this is a terrible mistake, but then Oliver cups her face with his hand and pulls her closer. He tastes like mint chewing gum and the faintest hint of stale coffee. (It's the most delicious thing she's ever tasted.) The edge of the table digs awkwardly into her hip, but Felicity couldn't care less as Oliver’s teeth fasten gently on her bottom lip, slowly prying them open. His tongue slips in deftly, exploring the inside of her mouth with delicious care. It’s slow, passionate, and the best damn kiss Felicity has had in her whole life.

(When he pulls away she’s breathless and seeing stars, all thought of finishing her work completely forgotten.)

* * *

They find a different routine after Christmas. Felix doesn't always stay after school—he’s made some friends and often goes home with them. Oliver still comes at five, only now he’s coming to see Felicity. Sometimes he helps her with the last bit of lesson prep, but most evenings he helps her into her coat while they exchange stories about their day, and he walks her to her car. Sometimes they go for coffee, or, if it’s really late, she comes over to their apartment for dinner.

Despite concern from both parties, Felix is delighted with the new development. He informs Felicity on the first day back after the holidays that he’s happy his father isn’t alone and that he’s happy she’s going to be his mom and not anyone else.

(Felicity thinks this is a bit much—it’s not like she and Oliver are getting married next weekend.)

“You don’t have something better to be doing with your time?” Felicity asks one Friday afternoon as Oliver sits at his son’s desk, cutting out flower petals for Monday’s craft. “I can always do these on the weekend if you want to go on a proper date.”

Oliver frowns, blue eyes flashing playfully. “You don’t think this is a proper date?”

Felicity blushes because of course she’s happy to spend her evenings here with Oliver (she’s happy to do anything with him, quite frankly). “I just thought—you know what? Nevermind. It’s fine. I love spending my nights with you.”

(Monday Oliver shows up with a picnic supper for them complete with candles. It’s not quite going out, but it’s the next best thing.)

* * *

The annual school fair is in May, and Felicity spends the day floating between the fish pond and the face painting. The SCPD always have a station, giving kids tours of the parking lot in a cruiser and talking about the importance of police officers and following the law. The highlight of the fair, however, is the dunk tank, which always features two volunteers, one from the staff and one from the local law enforcement. Barry and Oliver are this year’s recruits, and the line-ups are longer than usual; Barry teaches PE, so all the senior students are eager to dunk him, and Felix has convinced his entire class to try and dunk Oliver as many times as they can. None of them have spectacular aim, but they are all very determined.

(It doesn't hurt that Oliver is wearing his white SCPD shirt, which goes completely see-through after one dunking.)

She wanders over on her break in time to see Barry get dunked by his fifth grade class. He’s laughing when he surfaces, dark hair sticking up at all angles, and makes a point of congratulating the kids on their aim. “Billy’s got a great arm,” he warns, as Oliver climbs the ladder to take his place. Oliver laughs and says something about the first grade class making up for their lack of aim with plenty of determination.

“Are you going to dunk Dad, Miss Felicity?” Felix asks, rocking on his heels in excitement. He’s stayed by the dunk tank all day despite his dad’s repeated encouragement to try

the other things, determined not to miss Oliver being dunked.  
Felicity smiles as Grace Miller throws a tennis ball and misses. Oliver pretends to be relieved, thanking her for sparing him. It looks like fun, but she has terrible aim, and it’s meant for the children anyway. “I have to get back to the faceprinting, Felix. I just came over to see how my class was doing.”

“We’ve dunked Detective Queen three times Miss Felicity!” Connor Pryce exclaims.

“And I’ll bet you can get him three more times, Connor,” she replies. She catches Oliver’s eye over the seven year-old’s head and he grins.

“Come to try your hand?” he asks, pushing a hand through his damp hair. His fingers leave it standing in clumps and she can’t help giggling.

“I really should be getting back to the face painting,” she begins, but Oliver shakes his head.

“Come on, Felicity. One shot. Take one for the team.”

“You have to Miss Felicity!” Felix adds. “You’re the only one in the class who hasn’t.”

Felicity sighs, ignoring Barry and Oliver’s matching smirks. They both have an idea of the coordination handicap. “All right,” she relents. “But only one.”

Her students cluster around eagerly as she takes aim with the tennis ball, shouting encouragements.

“Nice and easy,” Oliver taunts. “Keep it low.”

“Quiet, Queen,” Felicity retorts. “I know what I’m doing.”

Oliver raises his hands in mock surrender. “Just trying to be helpful.”

No one is more surprised than Oliver when the tennis ball finds its mark and he plunges into the tank. Felicity is laughing with her students when he emerges, wiping water from his eyes.

“She dunked you, Dad!” Felix yells, running over to greet Oliver as he emerges from the tank. “Miss Felicity got you!”

“She did, buddy.” Oliver grins, shaking water from his hair. “And I’m going to get you!”

Felix shrieks and takes off running as Oliver chases him and his classmates around the tank, shaking water droplets at them. Felicity watches with a smile, wondering how she ended up with such wonderful boys in her life.

(Oliver gets his revenge later by throwing her into the dunk tank, clothes, cell phone and all. She’s never laughed so hard in her life.)

* * *

Before she knows it, it’s June, and the kids are all lining up to give her hand made thank you cards and gifts they picked out with their parents. Felicity tries not to cry as she tells them to have a good summer and makes them promise to visit her when they’re in Cisco’s second grade class next year, but the lump in her throat is a painful reminder of how much she is going to miss these kids next year.

“There’s no need to cry, Miss Felicity,” Felix tells her matter-of-factly, as he gives her a card featuring a drawing of them and Oliver saving the citizens of Nottingham from Prince John. “You’re going to see us all summer.”

Felicity laughs. Oliver has invited her to spend the three weeks at the family cottage on the coast. Felix has been looking forward to showing her around all month. “But I’m still going to miss having you in my class. All of you.”

“I’m sure there will be plenty of visitors,” Oliver says, appearing from the back room with Felix’s bag. “All those kids were talking about at their cubbies was how Miss Felicity was their favourite teacher and they wish she taught the second grade.”

“Could you?” Felix asks, eyes shining hopefully.

Felicity shakes her head. “Unfortunately, there are some new six year-olds who are going to need my help getting used to being at school all day just like you did.” That’s the beauty and the curse of her job: it starts over again every September.

“Well, we’re lucky, aren’t we then, buddy?” Oliver grins, ruffling his sons hair. “We get Miss Felicity around all year.”

(Oliver has also convinced her that moving in with them is in everyone’s best interests. She didn't say no.)

“That’s right,” Felicity agrees, leaning into Oliver’s side as he snakes an arm around her waist. “You get to be my special helper every day after school next year. If you want to, that is.”

Felix grins. “This was the best year ever!”

“It was,” Oliver agrees, pressing his lips to Felicity’s forehead. “And I think next year will be even better.”


End file.
